Severus Snape and the Science of Potions
by Lurk
Summary: When Severus Snape receives an offer for free samples from an unusual potion's catalogue, he doesn't realize just how magical the supplies can be. No ships
1. Chapter 1

A/N: An idea that's been rattling around for quite some time. Focuses on Severus Snape, and the actual art of potions making. (As well as some really cool and nearly implausible ingredients). No Pairings. Set in AU fifth year. Why? Because the story focuses on Severus, but I want canon characters in classes and such. And Umbridge would end up taking this story in an entirely different direction than I want it to go. The GENERAL book five plot will stay the same. Just a ditzy DADA prof. instead of Umbridge. Sorry all you Umbridge-lovers! I may have not met any of you yet, but I'm sure that a few exist. I think. **Constructive Critisism ALWAYS accepted!  
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Beta'd by Laughing Cat.

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Chapter One 

It was unfortunately a normal breakfast in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Far too many children were eating with their mouths open; far too many Headmasters were pestering an innocent Potions Master to eat some sugary breakfast pastry. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose to suppress a forming headache. He wasn't even sure what on earth that confection was! After refusing the 'treat' for the third or fourth time, Dumbledore took pity on him, and popped it into his own mouth, smiling with far too many twinkles in his eyes for Severus' comfort. It was then that he decided that he was in fact not particularly hungry, and would retire to his dungeon before the third-years would be down for class.

Severus walked briskly through the halls, glaring at nothing in particular. The third-years were not going to have a pleasant class; his headache assured that his temper would remain foul. He sneered at several of the more cheerful pictures, his glare promising that none would dare bid him a 'good morning' or any other ridiculous well wishes of the sort.

An approaching sound of flapping wings caused him to turn around. A bird of some sort (not an owl) was winging towards him, some sort of red letter in its clutches. Severus turned and began walking faster down the hall. He did _not_ need a Howler this early in the morning. If he could keep it within the creatures clutches, at least it wouldn't explode, allowing any early departer from breakfast to overhear another distraught mother complaining of his 'unfair treatment' towards her precious baby girl or boy.

Within a short time, he was entering his cool, dark classroom, where a headache-suppressant was merely one door away. He slammed the door behind him, trapping the falcon outside. He smirked, hearing it flap its wings furiously in order to stay airborne after having its intended path abruptly cut off.

He strode through the classroom, checking to make sure that the current lessons rarer ingredients were placed at the workstations. Then, with a muttered password, he entered his office.

With one swig of the suppressant, Severus was feeling much more agreeable, not that any of his students would notice a difference. Only Dumbledore and Minerva (possibly Filius as well, Severus could never tell how much that man knew) would notice the lessoning of stress-lines around his eyes.

A sharp and consistent tapping interrupted his moment of ache-free pleasure. The bird clearly wanted to deliver that Howler _now_. Severus reluctantly opened the door with a short non-verbal spell, allowing the bird to soar in. To his surprise, the bird turned out to be a peregrine falcon. He had seen hawks trained to deliver mail, but never a falcon. Perhaps he had angered the wrong family…

As the falcon swooped down and dropped its burden, Severus tensed, expecting the loud shrieks of an offended pure-blood. Instead, he was startled to find a rolled catalogue. His potions periodicals shouldn't have arrived until that Friday. Either Minerva was playing a rather cruel prank on him (Severus paused, he supposed he may have started it with the Kitty Toy Catalogue subscription, but one would think she could retaliate with a more creative idea) or some foolish company thought he would buy their cheaply produced products.

He sat down in his chair (while specifically designed to look uncomfortable and imposing, he had been careful to spell it with the strongest cushioning charms he could muster) and unrolled the catalogue.

"Exotic Potions Ingredients?" Severus snorted. "More than likely another swindler attempting to pass off Copperhead Venom as from a Basilisk." He opened the cover and began to read the introductory instructions.

_To ­­­­_Severus Snape;

_We at __Exotic Potions Ingredients__ are currently running a first-time customer's offer especially for members of the Potion Master's Guild. We will send, free of charge, sample sizes of any two components from our catalogue. If you are satisfied with our products, we hope that you will continue to look to us for your rare potion ingredients." _

_Sincerely Yours,  
Exotic Potions Ingredients_

Severus stroked his chin idly. It _seemed_ like a fool-proof offer, though there were many ways that an experienced crook could fake a component. It was certainly worth looking into. After his classes, he would most certainly be checking out their supply.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Chapter two, just for you! Sorry that my chapters aren't as long as some others, but I write short chapters better.

Once again, beta'd by the amazingly brilliant Laughing Cat.

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Not even half an hour into the first Potions class, Severus felt far more relaxed. He'd already described in blistering detail the lack of intelligence of three Hufflepuffs (one even ended up crying), and removing a total of thirty house points from the two houses.

Severus stalked up and down the rows of cauldrons, pausing to sneer at a hopeless Ravenclaw.

"_Mister_ Stewart, I do hope that you are not adding those mutilated slugs to your … concoction, if one could call it that." He tilted his head back, looking disdainfully that the slugs that Stewart was holding. The Ravenclaw looked up at him, trembling.

"B-but Professor! The book says that they should go in now."

"I believe," Severus said, "that the book calls for _slivered_ slugs, not a liquefied mass. A yellow potion is not an acceptable replacement for one that is intended to be blue. 10 points from Ravenclaw for improper preparation. Now," Severus flicked his wand, vanishing the potion, "You have an hour and a half to re-complete the potion. I _suggest_ that you pay attention to your preparation this time, Mister Stewart."

Stewart's lip quivered, but he resolutely put his head down and started to prepare his ingredients. Severus smirked. The boy could recite potions from memory and list all the reactions between the common ingredients, but somehow found it impossible to transfer his knowledge to his fingers.

Severus sighed and moved on to a giggling Hufflepuff, an acerbic comment already forming in his mind.

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Nearly seven hours later Severus collapsed into his soft armchair, completely drained. Not only had some of his classes been utterly furiating, but the new Defense professor – worthless woman that she was – had required his assistance in dealing with an obnoxious Doxy which had escaped the cage it had been delivered in. He snorted. _I have no idea why you decided to hire an 18-year old, Dumbledore,_ he thought bitterly, _but I hope you are ready to deal with her incompetence. Her only abilities appear to be her extremely vapid speech and her… overly endowed bosom. Neither of which are necessary for a Professor to have!_ His face twisted slightly, envy and bitterness prominently displayed. _I may be a better Potions Professor, but to allow such incompetents to teach when the Dark Lord is alive? Surely even the curse is not a good enough excuse to deny me the position. I am by far the most qualified out of all the professors here, and when the lone applicant for the position is a childish brat!_

He stretched out his legs with a sigh, placing them on the low mahogany table. No assignments had been due in any of his classes, and he had finished grading the papers from the 4th and 7th years last night. All that remained was skimming through his new catalogue stacked among the class notes he had brought from his office, eating a hot supper, and a two-hour night shift before he could sleep.

Unexpected warmth massaged the bottoms of his aching feet as a small, crackling fire suddenly lit in his hearth. Visible for only an instant, the house elf responsible for the sudden light and heat vanished, leaving only the slightest trace of elf-magic behind. Feeling the tension of the day seep from his bones, Severus reached out and picked up Exotic Potions Ingredients. He flipped past the introductory pages to the actual listings.

In appearance, the catalogue was quite normal. There was a picture of the component followed by a brief description. The presence of an automatically updating supply-counter, and a check box for easy ordering showed that the company was well off; such catalogues cost nearly twelve Galleons a piece to create. As well, Severus could see that the pictures had been enchanted to allow the buyer to rotate the images at his wish, a well known way of ensuring proper containment and storage.

The first actual ingredient, however, caught Severus off guard completely.

"Bottled _lighting_?!" he gasped incredulously. A vein started to tick in his forehead as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Unable to bring himself to read the ingredient's description, he flipped the page. Scarcely realizing he was speaking aloud, he began to mutter the ingredient's names, occasionally interspersing them with a scornful snort. "Essence of _rainbow_? Ha, impossible. Viscous pride? Ensnared east wind?"

He paused, scanning the next ingredient carefully. Yes, it did state that the vial pictured below contained preserved anger. "Preserved anger?" he repeated, voice rising in disgust and distemper, "_Preserved anger_?!" He shot to his feet and threw the rumpled catalogue on the table in disgust.

"What sort of buffoon do these _suppliers_ take me for?" He strode to the mantelpiece, fists trembling by his sides. Pausing as he realized that no supplier who did not wish to be ruined would ever try to trick a potion's master, he began to reconsider the source of his ire. "Or could this be something more? Has _Sherton,_" he spat the name, "invented such a scheme, intending to humiliate me?!"

Memories flooded Severus' mind of the envious Potions Master. Sherton had been forced to apply three separate times for a Mastery, and only succeeded at the age of sixty-three to receive it. That same month, Severus had received his Mastery at the youngest age, and on his first try. Hard brown eyes had glared at him, and their master had gone to great lengths to attempt to sabotage Severus' experiments. Only thick protective robes and the well ventilated room had saved Severus from death the day that Sherton switched his dragon's blood with a porcine substitute.

"Just like him," Severus snarled, twirling away from the fire and clenching the catalogue in his fist. "He probably wants me dead, and thinks me naïve enough to order such tripe. If I could only get my wand trained on him I-"

"Ahem."

Severus whirled around, back tensed, hand instinctively reaching for his wand. He relaxed upon seeing Dumbledore's familiar face in the fireplace.

"Albus," he said with a nod.

"May I come through, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, a slight grin on his face.

"Of course."

With a flare up of flames, Dumbledore gracefully stepped through the fireplace, dusting accumulated ash off his robes and onto the hearth. He shook his head sadly at the nearly bare table.

"If you leave breakfast early and miss lunch Severus, it is normally a good idea to eat something during the day. One meal is not enough to sustain an energetic man such as yourself." With a flick of his wand a tea tray appeared on the table, complete with biscuits and scones. Another flick conjured a large squashy armchair which he sank into, all the while the smile never leaving his face. Severus resumed his seat as well, accepting the cup of tea Dumbledore had just poured for him.

"How were your classes today, Severus?"

Severus grunted. "Tolerable. Now Albus-"

"It _is_ such a joy to be teaching the students new concepts. You know, I truly miss teaching Transfiguration." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, sipping from his cup.

"Yes, well in Transfiguration you do not need to worry about tomfoolery leading to a possibly lethal explosion. But this is not-"

"Nonsense, dear boy!" Dumbledore picked up a biscuit and took a rather large bite. "Why, way back in the first years that I taught, one boy- I can't remember his name now, but he was so enthusiastic! A little too enthusiastic, he ended up Transfiguring his partner's neck into a metal tube."

"Fascinating. And yet you-"

"It was lucky indeed that he had only managed to Transfigure the skin. It would have been rather disastrous had he managed the solid pipe he was attempting."

"Damn you, Albus, can you get to the point of why you came?!"

Dumbledore lightly brushed some crumbs off of his beard. "I think I'd much rather discuss what caused you to act so furiously, Severus."

Severus glared. "Surely that's not why you came to my rooms, Albus."

"No, but that does not prevent me from being curious. If I remember your schedule correctly, you did not have Mr. Longbottom today." Dumbledore chuckled slightly and picked up his teacup again, "So what has you so worked up, dear boy?"

Severus sighed. There would be no way to distract Dumbledore from the current conversation, so he picked up Exotic Potions Ingredients and handed it to the headmaster. "Here," he said shortly, "is a compendium of the most ridiculous, so-called 'potions ingredients' that I have ever seen."

Dumbledore set down his cup and flipped idly through the pages.

"As you can see," the irate Potions Master continued, "all of the 'ingredients' are merely puerile fabrications of what could go into a potion, and the pictures merely colored vials. Nothing could be more insulting than _that_ piece of…of _rubbish_."

"Not at all, Severus."

He snorted. "Oh yes, Albus, I'm sure that you, or perhaps Minerva and her precious Gryffindors could think of something more insulting but I-"

Dumbledore raised a placating hand. "I merely meant that these are not fabrications."

Severus stared mutely for a moment. "I beg your pardon?" he said slowly, "Are you implying that those, those Billywig sting-induced concoctions are _real_?"

Dumbledore nodded, eyes beginning to twinkle with humor. "Indeed. My dear friend Nicolas Flamel used to order from Exotic quite frequently. He used to order, where is it…ah, here! 'dragon fire' on a regular basis. Nicolas believed that using the fire to melt some of the components of the Philosopher's Stone would speed up production. Alas, it still took too long, and he and his lovely wife ended up agreeing to die." Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It was for the best, truly. I believe that both of them were willing to accept it from the start, but Nicolas was a proud man, he felt that he couldn't go without a bit of a fight."

Severus was in shock. "You mean to tell me," he said faintly, "that I can order a supply of, oh I don't know…" He picked up Exotic and opened it to a random page, "a supply of 'triumphant phoenix song,' and that is what I would actually receive? You must be joking."

"Not at all," Dumbledore repeated, "though from what Nicolas told me, you would have to be very careful." He looked at his employee's bewildered face and expounded, "Nicolas told me that each ingredient comes with a small note card with instructions. These include proper storage, preparation, and how to use it. After all, dragon fire is not something that you can lift out of a box! That could result in some very nasty burns, I dare say. For example Severus, tell me how you would pour triumphant phoenix song into a potion."

Severus bristled. "Considering I have never even _heard_ of such ingredients before," he snapped, "it is unthinkable that I would know how to _use_ them."

"And that is what the note card would tell you how to do. According to Nicolas, at least. I have never had an opportunity to order from Exotic, and as of late my potion skills have become unbearably rusty." With that, Dumbledore rose out of his chair and vanished it with a flick of his wand. "And now, Severus, I shall take my leave of you. It seems like you have some ordering to do."

Severus nodded slowly, distracted by the thoughts of how bottled lighting could possibly interact with volatile ingredients. He hoped there was a chart of reactions he could order, otherwise he'd be spending much of his time testing the reactions of his ingredients and wasting his precious supplies.

"Oh, before I forget!" Dumbledore paused in front of the fireplace, eyes twinkling like mad, "After the positive reaction to the Yule Ball of last year, I decided that we shall have a Halloween Ball this year. I expect to see you there, and in costume." With that, the headmaster turned and disappeared in the flames.

Not even an instant after Dumbledore vanished, Severus was once again on his feet, an expression of utter horror on his face. "BALL?!"


End file.
